Heavy Fog
by Whelpie
Summary: A man finds himself lost at sea, and discovers something in the mist.


Sailing has always been a passion of mine. As soon as I moved out on my own and had the money for it, my first real purchase was a sailboat. I named my first boat Eleonora. She was gorgeous. Lasted me for many happy years in which I sailed, sometimes with others, but mostly on my own. The sounds and the smells of the sea are wonderful. I've seen it all. Sunrises, sunsets, schools of dolphins, all the stuff one associates with the beauty and majesty of the ocean, and plenty of things that most people would not be familiar with. I've travelled quite far by boat. Sadly, Eleonora was lost in a storm, something which I myself barely survived. I replaced her as soon as possible with my second boat, Hope. Ever since I first sailed out with Hope, it was hard not to notice the differences. They handled quite differently, with Hope being significantly bigger than Eleonora. I wouldn't ever have been able to purchase a boat like Hope, had I not gotten lucky at an estate auction. Despite being second-hand, however, it was clear that Hope's previous owner had taken good care of her. And after the initial adjustment period, I must admit that I got quite attached myself as well. Hope was different, sure, but she felt bigger, stronger, and more wilful. She almost had a mind of her own.

One day, I was out sailing with Hope when the radio came in with fog warnings. While I wasn't terribly concerned about fog, it was still not something that I was particularly inclined to stay out in it. So I began turning around. I was pretty far out, and figured that getting back to the shore would probably take about an hour. The wind was just right at the time, and after setting the sails, I pulled out a beer and started drinking a bit while leaning back in my chair. It was a beautiful day outside, and I felt a little sting of sadness at having to go back in like that. I could probably just stay and wait it out. I argued with myself for a bit before deciding that I should go back in anyways, a shame though it was. Still sitting comfortably in my chair, I took a long look at the prow of the boat. From here, it looked glorious, a shining white point going just above the horizon. Something about it gave me a great sensation of calm, one which washed over my body until I, without noticing anything, drifted off into sleep.

When I woke up, I found myself surrounded by fog. I cursed myself a bit for falling asleep, then stood up. If there was fog, that meant I had to be close to the shore, which meant that I was at risk of hitting a rock. I ran downstairs and checked my navigation system for an idea of where I was. Nothing. No signal. I looked at my maps and used my compass to try and determine where I had drifted off to, but it was pointless. Nothing worked. The sky was obscured by fog. I couldn't even located any lighthouses anywhere. I sighed in exasperation and threw my hands up. Idiotic. I should've stayed awake, why the fuck did I go to sleep? Idiot, idiot, idiot. No land in sight, anywhere. Just this thick fog everywhere, making me feel as if I was boxed in on every side. Then I heard sounds. Splashing. Someone was rowing around out there. I yelled, tried to get the attention of the person in the boat. I didn't hear any answer, but the sounds seemed to get closer. For many agonising minutes, the splashing continued, ever closer. Then, finally, a small rowboat broke through the wall of fog. A person was inside it, a man wearing a yellow fisher's hat and coat. I yelled out to him, but there was still no response. Eventually, he came close enough that I managed to get him on board.

There were several things about the man that seemed… Off. Bits of seaweed seemed to cling to his coat and hat, as if he had just fallen into the water and gotten out. His skin was odd, very pale and stretched, with the man himself seemingly being very thin. I began speaking to him, thanking him for coming aboard and asking him where I was. He took several seconds before answering.

"Don't you know where this is?" he said, his voice gargling slightly. I shook my head in response. This resulted in a rasping laugh.

"Then ye're as lost as me. I suppose it's not so weird. I was lost in a storm, and suddenly I found myself here. Been paddling my little boat there ever since, trying to find land."

"A storm?" I was very confused now. Had I somehow managed to sleep through a storm? No, that couldn't be, there hadn't been a cloud in the sky before.

"Aye," the old man said. "Was out fishing for herring when it hit. I don't even remember what happened, to be honest. One minute, I'm in the middle of it. Next I'm in this damn fog, with not even a slight breeze to be felt anywhere.

I stopped for a second. He was right. The water was perfectly still. No wind whatsoever. And yet, the air was much cooler than it had been earlier. I started to feel the cold and the moisture seep through my clothes.

"I don't understand," I said. "I remember it being a nice, cloudless day before I fell asleep. Then I woke up here."

"Ye don't say?" the man said, scratching his chin. "That's quite odd. What are ye doing here, then?"

"Well, I imagine I'd be better-equipped to answer that question if I knew where "here" was."

"Now, young one," the man said, his voice suddenly growing darker. "Don't get mouthy with me. If ye truly dun belong here, ye will know soon enough. And if ye do… Well, we'll both know soon enough, then."

I shook my head. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"They're searching, y'know. Always searching." He grabbed my shoulders. "They can't see through it either. But they have time."

"Look," I said. "If you want to ramble, that's fine. I can help you get back to the shore. But not without wind. So whatever it is that you're afraid of, we're not gonna be able to escape it until the wind picks up and blows away this damned fog."

He cackled. "I wouldn't expect ye to know about it. Ye'll know soon enough. They send us here, send us to this place. Then they feed the ones they can catch, to him."

"Him?" I was now completely convinced of the old man's madness.

"Aye. When the fog rolls in, he follows. And they follow him. They dun look like people, y'know. Not when ye get up close."

I sighed, sitting down in my chair. "What do they look like, then?"

"The eyes. They're too far apart. And their necks. Flaps of skin. Fingers, webbed. I saw one of them once. Managed to smack it with my oar before it could drag me off."

"I see."

"Ye think I'm crazy. I thought it was crazy too. But ye'll know, soon."

He put his hand on my wrist. That's when I noticed the fingers. They were webbed. His eyes, which had been covered by the brim of his hat were spaced apart, too far for any normal person. I imagine that if I had been able to see his neck, I'd see flaps of skin there.

"You're one of them?" I said, recoiling in disgust.

"What?" he asked. "No, I'm not… They're not like us. I just told ye. Ye can tell them apart by the eyes. And the skin, it's pale. Look, I need to go now, I have to get away. You should get away too. Before they come. I…"

He went quiet, and I heard splashing in the distance.

"They're coming," he said, his voice trembling. "By God, they're coming."

He jumped off the side of the railing, expertly swimming up to his little rowboat. I didn't dare say a word, for fear of getting noticed by whatever had happened to this poor man. Instead, I heard the splashes from his rowboat grow weaker as he disappeared into the fog. The other splashes, too, grew weaker as they seemingly followed him. I sat on my own, in quiet, on my boat. Waited and waited for the fog to pass. Sometimes I heard things in the distance. The sounds of splashing, of screams, and of something that I didn't recognise. The latter of those brought me a great amount of discomfort, making me feel as if I was plunging into a great abyss. It was a sound that came from far away, from down some long-abandoned mineshaft. I found myself sobbing quietly until the fog finally dissipated. It all disappeared incredibly fast, as if the rays of the sun burned through the dense mist, leaving only the wonderful day that I had been experiencing before all of this. It was warm, and while I still felt the moisture clinging to my shirt and skin, it was quickly vaporised by the sun as well. I made my way home, the shore only being a few hundred meters from where I was.

I've had a lot of nightmares since that day. I've talked to therapists and such. Trying to make sense of it. They tell me the same thing. Hallucination. Try to work through it with me. Try to make me understand that it's not real. I believed them, I really did. It's been over a year now, and I was finally back to having a job again. But then, today, I looked in the mirror, and I noticed the skin on my neck. Flaps had begun to form. And my eyes. My hands. I can't deny it. I can't deny what I saw, what I heard. I must have answers. I must have answers. I must get back to the sea. I have to know.


End file.
